A Hen Harrier’s Tale

I wrote this post a year ago. The plight of the persecuted Hen Harrier is no better, so I’m airing this again because the so-called “Glorious 12th” of August, when the grouse shooting season begins, is almost upon us. There are several Hen Harrier Days arranged throughout the country – see here for one near you http://henharrierday.org/2018-events.html. Attending one is an opportunity to be physically present amongst other bird-lovers and those who abhor this weird sport of shooting  birds specially raised for this purpose – and paying bucket loads of money to do so. Crazy? Odd? Useless? Sporting? There will be speakers at some of the events, and it’s a chance to get out, meet some like-minded people. Rant over. I plan to be at an event. Read on…..

Eyes in the back of my Head

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Hera flew for her life, the wind buffeting her wings as they carried her through the  upland air. Terrified, confused, sad, angry, she was a mess of jumbled emotions as she fled the scene.

Returning to her chicks in the nest she’d made for them, she discovered they were all dead. They had been squashed and trampled beneath the boots of a gamekeeper. She’d screamed in anguish, looking at the bloodied bodies of her tiny brood, then had taken to the sky to get away, fast.

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